Divining in the Desert
by The Little House Scribe
Summary: Whilst eating lunch in Al-Kharid, the Adventurer loses conciousness as a voice calls for help to him. Is it merely the imaginations of a man suffering heat-stroke, or is there a more complex machination at work? I hope that this story can serve as a Quest Suggestion when completed; though it will be set in a more realistically sized world than the gameone.
1. An Adventure in Al-Kharid

The Bazaars of Al-Kharid are a feast for the senses. On this particular day, the town was particularly lively; the smells of food were thick and pungent, and with my mouth beginning to water, I purveyed the wares of one of the stalls, before buying a spicy chicken kebab and some sweetmeat.

Settling down against the sandstone walls of the palace, I observed the bustling happenings of the bazaar as merchants shouted out, advertising their wares, people went about their business, and couple of times I caught the glint of riches being liberated from their possessors.

Washing my kebab down with a mug of chilled juice from the fruit of local cacti, I heard rhythmic sets of footsteps approaching. I turned to see a group of palace guards on patrol. I waved and they nodded at me, before rounding in front of me and continuing on their way.

Looking up, I could just make out the rope that Ozan and I had crossed during our attempt to save Prince Ali. I wondered how Ozan was doing; I hadn't seen him in a while - but Ozan could take care of himself. He was probably regaling a desert village of embellished tales of his prowess.

Smiling, I began to unwrap my sweetmeat.

"Help….Me…."

I sat up straighter, slowly masticating my mouthful of sweetmeat. Who had said that? It was very faint…A whisper at the most. I focused my eyes, looking for a sign in the crowds of the bazaar for a sign of distress. The guards continued to march away; had they not heard the call?

"…I…Nee…"

The next words were lost as I collapsed into darkness.

*(*)*

I awoke in a soft bed. Sitting up, I tried to gather my bearings. I relaxed when I saw the familiar figure of Surgeon General Tafini. She smiled down at me, and I knew at that moment there was nothing seriously wrong.

"What happened?" I asked sheepishly.

"It was heat stroke!" A booming voice called out, walking past the divider. A thick-set guard with a jovial face walked into view. "I'm sure of it." He confidently stated. "He couldn't stand the warm sun."

"Interesting view, Aram." Tafini said. " It seems to be the most likely explanation."

"Ha! You see!" Aram laughed, while Tafini handed me a waterskin she pulled out of a vat of ice-coolers and waterskins.

Aram struck me as a proud local. I doubted that he travelled much, and he was quite proud of his homeland. His amusement at my misfortunate situation did not strike me as malicious; I was just a man unable to cope with the warmth of his homeland.

"Aram brought you here." Tafini explained.

"Thank you, Aram."

Aram nodded, smiling.

"I hope I haven't kept you…" I ventured to Aram.

"Nonsense!" Aram boomed. "My work had ended when I saw you; I rarely leave Al-Kharid and it's nice to meet new people. I gather you don't live in Al-Kharid?" Aram asked, to confirm what he suspected about me.

"I have a cottage in the foothills of the White Wolf Mountain overlooking Taverly, but I travel a lot." I explained.

"You can leave when you want." Tafini told me. Picking up my belongings at the front desk and leaving some coins in payment for their service, Aram and I left the hospital.

It was mid-afternoon. "Where are you heading next?" I asked Aram.

"Back into town."

"Mind If I joined you? We can get to know each other better."

Aram laughed and slapped my shoulder. It was then I remembered something…the voice.

"Did…Did you hear a voice calling for help?" I asked.

Aram looked puzzled.

"Just before I blacked out? Were you there when I did?"

"Yes. I was just finishing my shift when it happened. I work at the Al-Kharid Branch of the Bank of Runescape. I saw you collapse, but I heard no voice."

"Perhaps I imagined it." I mused.

"Perhaps." Aram agreed.

"I never understand." I began. "How the bank works to hold my belongings."

Aram laughed. "I'm just a guard. I don't know the exact workings, but I know the principles. There are two types of account. One is a local account, mostly for people like me who don't travel much. Our goods are held in local vaults, and we can only withdraw them here instantly. If we travel, we can use our items stored here as collateral to instantly withdraw coins. I believe that the value of items are taken out of our account and sent either to the Grand Exchange, I believe."

"Do you have a choice which items are sold, if you don't have any money stored?" I ask.

"Yes you do."

"So what's the other kind of account?"

"This one is far more complicated. Every branch of the bank can access it, for it seems that your items are stored on a different plane of existence. People like you; adventurers, have accounts like this – your items can be accessed from anywhere on the planet, and the things you put into the bank are the things that come out."

"So my personalised items that I deposit remain mine?" I asked. "I wondered how that worked. Once I deposited a slightly marked dagger in Taverly and withdrew it in Falador. Good to understand how it works."

"Yes. It's far safer – at least from robbery."

"So why aren't all items stored this way?"

"Well, most of the patronage of the bank comes from locals. People who don't have a lot of valuables make up the majority of the users, but contribute a fraction of stored wealth. It's adventurers like you who contribute the most to the bank. It takes a huge amount of training and character testing to learn how to effectively operate the inter-planer banking system; far more than it does to teach how to operate the regular vaults."

"You know your way around banks."

"I know a little…" Aram responded, as our conversation continued as we walked through the swirling sands.


	2. My Best Broav

*(*)*

By the end of the night, Aram and I had said our farewells. I checked into a hotel to get some rest. Aram returned home to his wife, two daughters and son, inviting me to visit. I promised to do so at some point.

I was drifting off to sleep when I heard it again. It was extremely faint…fainter than before, but perhaps because of the quiet of the night, I could hear it more clearly. It sounded…feminine. It was a plea, a cry for help. My eyes flew open…but the voice vanished. What was happening? Who was calling for me? What was calling? Was there anyone calling at all, or was it a figment of my imagination? I needed to speak with someone on the matter.

I picked up my belongings, before signing out at the desk. The sky was inky black, dotted with sparkling stars. I pulled a hard clay tablet out of my pack and smashed in on the ground at my feet. A surge of magic swept me away, and I found myself outside the front door of my home, the sun shining down through the clouds.

'_Greetings, Master. What is thy bidding?' _

Althazdrar's telepathic question entered my mind as the Demon appeared alongside me.

"Nothing. I'm only going to be here for a short while. You may return to what you were doing."

'_Very well, Sir."_

Althazdrar returned to reading in the study, and I headed to my costume room. I pulled an airtight pot out of a cupboard, before heading downstairs and out into my yard. I found my Broav frolicking in the mud.

"Enjoying yourself there?"

"Muuuuuud! Glorious Mud!"

"Do think you could tear yourself away and help me find someone?"

"Yeah. Have you got mushrooms?"

"Got a whole bagful." I held it out. My Broav leaped forward to bury its snout in the bag.

"Uh-uh." I pulled the bag away. "Not all at once." I pulled mushroom out and tossed it to my Broav, who chomped it.

"So, who do you need to find?"

I opened the pot lid and let the Broav smell the item inside. The Broav sniffed around as I replaced the lid on the pot, before storing it in my pack.

My Broav whined and ran in circles before settling down, dejected.

"Come on. I didn't expect to find her here." I assured him. "Come on, we need to be off."

"Oh, boy, a hunt!"

I picked him up and performed the ritual that allowed me to travel using the Lodestone network. Myself and my Broav appeared in Seers Village.

"Can you smell her?"

"Faintly. She was here a couple of weeks ago."

"Maybe I'll ask around about her. Wait here."

I walked into the tavern and ordered an ale. I was tired, but I needed to persevere in my quest. The barkeep, with the incentive of a few gold pieces, was quite happy to help.

"Oh, yes. She was here a couple of weeks ago. Good looking lass; she wasn't lacking company. Though it seemed to me she was a little…lost, you know. As if she wasn't quite aware of her surroundings."

"Do you know where she is?"

"Nah, sorry, can't help you."

My face fell, crestfallen, I thanked him.

"She did mention something about going to see a Gypsy. Avis? Aris. Yes. Gypsy Aris."

I wrung the Barkeep's hand, placed another handful of coins on the counter and hurried out.

"Whaa…" I asked as my Broav was not where I left him. Glancing around, I saw why. His snout was buried in the rotten tomatoes, and he was relishing them.

"That's disgusting!" I said.

"I'm a pig!" He answered. I could not argue with his logic.

"If you've had enough; we need to be going."

Snorkling, my Broav ran up and I used the Lodestone system, this time taking us to Varrock. It was dark there.

"We'll camp for the night." I told my Broav, but he had already caught a scent and was bounding away.


End file.
